


Dean Sketches

by NathOak



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-08-29 16:02:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8496430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NathOak/pseuds/NathOak
Summary: So yeah, Dean was in his Impala, sketching -- yes, sketching. Dean has the ability to draw, and he both loves and hates it.





	1. Pilot

**Author's Note:**

> Hope this is satisfactory, I'm not good with keeping up with my stories

Dean was in his baby -- I mean his car, chill, not Castiel, chill. So yeah, he was in his impala, sketching -- yes, sketching. Dean has the ability to draw, and he both loves and hates it. He feels like it's such a sissy thing, yet it's a quality pleasure for him. Like an outside world he'd imagine, love, draw, and be happy. Not that he'd buy into it, he only wished though. Anyway, the point is, Dean was sketching something, while sitting in his Impala, and what he was sketching was Cas. It was the only thing he'd been able to draw for weeks. Dean would try and fail to draw anything besides the angel, and it was crushing him, like, What the hell? It's been pissing him off for ages. Cas, Cas, Cas; was that really all he could think about, come on!  
"Dean,"  
Dean jumped in his seat, that fucking gravely (sweet, really) voice of Cas spooked him to a solid block. Cas had appeared out of no where, again! Dean rushed to shove his sketch book closed and threw it to the floor.  
"Cas! What the hell, man? You can't leave me alone for five minutes--"  
"Sorry, but this is important." Cas reached his arm through the Impala's window, before Dean could respond, Cas grabbed Dean's arm, and BAM! They were inside the hotel room.   
"God, you have got to stop doing that!" Dean took a breath in, and calmed himself within his surroundings. "What's so important?"  
"My cat isn't moving."  
"What your--wait, your what? Cat? What cat?" Dean was stunned, this is what Cas interrupted him for?  
"Yes, my cat. He stopped moving, and is just laying there. I don't know what's wrong with him." Cas looked towards Sam's bed (Sam was out currently) and there was a sleeping cat stretched across it. Dean's expectations and concerns completely disappeared. "Cas, it's asleep." Dean rolled his eyes.  
"Are you sure?" Cas walked over to it, and sat down next to the bed, watching the cat. He had his eyes pinned to it, dreading concern. Dean found this slightly, strange, yet also cute.  
"Yes, I'm sure." Dean sighed. "It's just taking a nap. Look, if you really need me, I'll be in my car." Dean turned, he wanted to get back to his sketch, even though it was yet another picture of Castiel, he wanted to finish it.  
"Dean?" Cas stopped him as he reached the door.  
"Yeah?"   
"What were you doing when I got you?" Cas asked innocently, (but when is he not doing anything innocently?), he looked up from his cat. Dean felt frozen, but he turned and tried to reassure Cas.  
"Nothing."  
"Dean, were you drawing?" Dean paused.  
"No--"  
"You can't really lie to me, Dean." Dean sighed.  
"Okay; yes. Happy now?" Dean reached for the door handle, but felt stopped again.  
"Why were you drawing? What were you drawing?" Cas was curious now, shit. Dean grabbed the handle and opened the door.  
"Nothing, leave it alone." Dean left through the door and made a ways to the Impala. He got to his car and was bout to open the door and get in, but one look inside, his sketch book was gone. "Damn it, Cas."  
Dean looked up and on the other side of his car, Cas stood, magically transported, with Dean's sketch book open in his hands. His eyes glued to the first page of Dean's sketch book.  
"This is ... Good." Cas didn't know how to describe it, but to him it looked beautiful. The picture Dean had drawn on the first page of his sketch book, was a dog. (A dog owned briefly by the brothers on a case. Dean had personally bonded with it for a week, and in that week it grew to be personal to Dean. Sadly, he couldn't take it with them and gave the lost dog to the family they saved). It was a black and white sheep dog, which they (Dean) named Chloe. Dean drew her on the page running, Chloe was an extremely playfully, trained dog.   
Cas eyed the drawing for a few minutes, in which Dean hoped Cas wouldn't turn anymore pages and assumed that that picture was what Dean was drawing. Though Dean's hopes were crushed, Cas turned to the next page. This page was a picture of Sam. Which was surprising, it wasn't what Cas expected, but that wasn't because Cas thought Dean wouldn't want to draw Sam, or anything. But only because, it was what Sam looked like, what seemed way before Cas had met the two. (It was 20, or so, year old Sammy). Cas thought the fact Dean had drawn this was cute.   
"Cas, stop turning." Dean said this, hoping Cas would stop looking at the drawings, but the demand went completely over Cas's head.  
"I never knew you could draw." Cas commented, and then turned another page, in which was a drawing of Sam leaning against the Impala.   
"Well, now you do. Give my book back, Cas." Again, this demand went unanswered.   
"Why can't I look at them?" Cas hadn't taken his eyes off of the book, and Dean stood frozen. Of course he couldn't say why! But what else could he say though? Cas turned another page, (a picture of Lisa). "Do you miss her?" Dean raised an eyebrow.  
"Who?"  
"This women." Cas still hadn't removed his sight from the picture, something about it made him uncomfortable. Then he saw a name in the corner of the page at the bottom. "Lisa." He read aloud. Dean gulped.  
"Cas, give me back my sketch book." Dean was about to walk around the car and get it from him, but Cas turned to the next page, he didn't want to look at Lisa's drawing, and he expected the next one to be of her too. But he was again standing there confused. It wasn't a picture of Sam, or Lisa, or Anna, or the Impala. It was Castiel. The first picture of Cas that Dean drew. It was a stunning marvel of a picture, in Dean's opinion, not because he drew it, but because it was Cas, and Dean thought he'd done a good job of it. Dean knew which page came after Lisa, and he wanted to stop Cas from seeing it, but he'd turned the page and Cas's silence lead Dean to regret drawing it completely, even though he loved that picture. (The drawing was of Castiel sitting on a bench, the one next to Dean, and Cas was smiling. It was the first time Dean had seen Cas smile, and that memory, a memory Dean loved, he drew, and suddenly he had regrets on drawing it).   
"It's me," Cas looked at it confused, as far as he was aware, that was him. He was surprised Dean had even drew him, an angel, Dean hated angels. It was a good picture, a beautifully drawn picture, and Cas remembered it, the location it was in, the event that happened. Dean had drawn it, what was surprising was that Dean had decided to draw Castiel in the first place. They had a more profound bond, but that didn't mean Cas was obviously close enough for Dean to think about him enough to draw him. Then a question popped into Cas's head; were there more pictures of him? Possibly not, (like Lisa) but, were there?  
While Cas thought on this, Dean was a frozen block. Doubts formed in his head, he felt sick, he wanted to grabbed the sketch book from his arms and walk away with it, but he couldn't. He couldn't move, and when Cas turned to the next page, he waited judgement. He was going to puke, and he couldn't even move to do so.  
Cas looked at the next picture, and he melted. Yes, it was another picture of him, but this time it was him sleeping. Angels don't sleep, but in this picture Cas was laying down on top of blankets, head on a pillow, asleep. In his trench coat, no less. Dean was dead, yeah, he died at that moment. He wanted Cas to say something, to criticise him, he couldn't handle Cas's silence, what was he thinking? He couldn't possibly think they were good or that Dean wanted to draw him, twice.   
But on the contrary, Cas thought they were both -- that all his drawings were beautiful. He couldn't help but stare at his sleeping self, this is how Dean saw him? It comforted Cas that Dean even thought about him. Dean gulped again, his eyes darted from the book to Cas's expression, back to the book, to Cas. He hoped beyond Hope Sam didn't show up anytime soon. Dean couldn't lie his way out of this, what was he to say? How could he stop an angel from looking at a few harmless pictures?  
Cas turned yet another page, thinking there may be another picture of him. There was, this one was of Castiel sitting next to Dean in the Impala. He turned to the next page, Cas was playing with a kitten, the next one showed Cas watching a movie confused and questioning it.  
"Where did you get the time to draw all these?" Cas finally looked up from the picture to look at Dean, who was stunned and still frozen. The pictures were also perfectly envisioned, and detailed. "Dean?" This sounded like a desperate question, but Cas was curious, and Dean wasn't moving, like Cas's cat. There was more silence until Dean couldn't handle the pressure of Cas's glare.  
"I-I ah," Dean looked to the ground, and started fiddling with the keys he was holding in his hands. "Just had a few minutes on hand." Dean tried not to stutter his sentence, he had to stay calm.  
"They'll all beautiful, but why are there so many pictures of me? I figured you'd have more of Sam--"  
"You're just ... Easier to draw." Dean looked to Cas, who's expression hadn't changed, Dean went back to looking at his keys. He had no intention to explain himself further. "Can I have my sketch book back please?"   
Cas came back to his senses. "Yes, of course. My apologises." Cas handed Dean his sketch over the Impala, he couldn't help but notice Dean was lying, he just didn't know why he was lying. Why were there so many pictures of him? There was no way Cas was easier to draw than Sam. Cas's vessel (Jimmy) was older.  
"Thanks." Dean said this drily. He was done for, Cas knew he was lying, he knew it. How was this mess even able enough for Dean to walk away without questions Cas wanted answered. Every picture of Cas wasn't drawn just because Dean had time on his hands, he genuinely loved each picture of Cas, even though he didn't know why he really drew them. Every picture Dean envisioned were all possible or already happened, and Dean drew nearly every moment that he enjoyed being near Castiel.  
This is why Cas was confused. Surely Dean had had more fun times with Sam of all people, than Cas. An angel who made Dean dig his way out of a grave, who could never answer him when he had concerns about his brother. Some pictures that were sketched, Cas had memories from, and he too loved those memories with Dean.   
"Don't mention any of this to Sam." Dean said lastly, not sharing his gaze with Cas, he turned and started walking back inside, locking his car as he walk away. Cas didn't follow him as Dean left, he stayed looking where Dean had stood. He still had questions, he also had a feeling, a human emotion he couldn't shake. He didn't know what this emotion was, but he felt his vessel's heart beating louder, and his stomach felt as if it had plummeted, his face felt warm, he couldn't move. He could, but he didn't want to. He wanted to keep looking at those pictures that Dean drew of him. Were there more picture of him? Cas's vessel suddenly felt weak, and light, and fuzzy. His heart beat didn't slow at all. What was this? What was it about those pictures that was making Cas feel like this?  
Cas's thoughts were cut off, Sam's car pulled into the park next to the Impala. Sam was back, when he got out of the car, he raised his eyebrow at Cas.  
"Cas, what are you doing out here?" Sam closed the door to his car, locked it with his keys, and looked back to Cas. Dean didn't want Cas to tell Sam about the pictures, so Cas answered.  
"I was ... Talking to Dean."  
"Out here?" Sam asked sceptically. "Where'd he go?"  
"Inside." Cas looked to Sam, and Sam nodded, questioning him no more. Cas was silently grateful. Sam gestured to head inside, Cas nodded and the two headed back to the motel room.


	2. Tessa the cat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry his took so long.

Sam entered the motel, Castiel behind him. Sam sat on the bed, Cas stayed at the door. Dean sipped his beer, Sam looked back and forth from the two. They were talking previously, right? What were they talking about? They've gone into completely-awkward-silence mood.  
"What's with you two?" Sam looked to Dean when he asked this to find his brother's reaction. Dean had placed his beer on the table when Sam asked this, and contemplated picking it back up again. Cas knew Dean didn't want him saying anything so he didn't say a thing. Dean figured this, so he grunted.  
"Nothing." "Nothing; means something, in your language, Dean." Sam knew something was up, he felt indecent getting it out of Castiel and left him be. But he had been dealing with his brother since the dawn of his birth, something was up, something important that was either about Sam or something personal to or about Dean, and it was going to contribute to the hunt Sam had organised, so Sam needed this resolved. "So what's something?"  
This was the point Cas felt like interrupting. Dean clearly didn't want Sam to know about his sketches, but Sam took their awkward silence as something serious (like everything always is), and to Cas, he felt Sam might not shut up about it till he got answers.  
"Dean--""Cas, shut it." Dean gave Cas a glare that literally had 'shut the fuck up' written across it. Cas silenced, and Sam looked from Cas, back to Dean, raised an eyebrow with a sceptical look. Dean wanted to roll his eyes, this is seriously their lives? Everything on bored their path is taken on as something that'll contribute to their 'hunting' which they must fill-out, and it's all to damn dramatic. "It's nothing, Sammy."  
Now Sam wanted to roll his eyes. "If it's nothing, then what was Cas going to say?"  
Dean sipped his beer again, head turned to look at the other side of the room. "Cas was going to say nothing."  
"Yeah, right--"  
"Actually, Dean, I was going to say that you left you car window open."  
Sam and Dean paused. They both turned and look at the angel, Sam sceptically, and Dean organically confused and slightly stunned, but then he decided to roll with this new information to get out of the room.  
"Thanks, Cas. I'll go tend to that." Dean got up, sipped his beer, put it back down on the table, then grabbed his bag (which had his sketch book in it) to put it back in the car. He walked to the door, and closed as he walked out.  
There was a few seconds after Dean closed the door that Cas and Sam didn't talk. Cas wasn't sure whether he was to tell Sam, it seemed somewhat unnecessary Dean would want to hide his sketches anyway, but Cas also didn't want to go out of his way to upset Dean.  
Sam though, was just about to drop it, Dean clearly wasn't going to comply with him, Dean's stubborn like that. Maybe it was just nothing, and maybe Dean and Cas just had a 'talk', but as much as that seemed unlikely, Sam would prefer it. Then, Sam froze. Immediately he was about to pull his gun from his pocket, swing around and shot whatever the hell was brushing against his back, but Sam paused. The single most unexpected voice came out -- it was a cat. A bloody Meow -- what the?  
"He likes you." Cas, you weirdo, what are you--  
"Cas, is there a -- a cat, rubbing against my back?" Sam made an effort to look anywhere but down, and not make a move. "Cas, this could be a supernatural (as everything almost nearly is), what are you doing just standing here?" Sam shouted this quietly (quietly as he could) through his teeth.  
"Oh ... Right, my apologises. I allowed Tessa to sleep on your bed. Actually, I thought she was sick, so I took her to your bed, and got Dean. But I was reassured that she was sleeping." Cas walked down over to the Sam's bed, and picked up Tessa (his cat) and cradled her in his arms. He was completely fascinated in it. Sam wanted to slap Cas, but he had self control."You thought he was sick so you put her on my bed?" Now Sam looked to Cas, he looked slightly annoyed, and didn't move a muscle. "Are you sure that thing isn't a skin-changer?"  
"Yes, I would know if a skin-changer was in my presence." Cas answered unfazed, as Sam sat there in disbelief. But then he realised.  
"Wait, that's what you and Dean were talking about -- your cat?" Sam relaxed finally and rested his elbows on his knees. Cas still didn't pay Sam a glace and watch his cute little kitty curl up in his arms. Technically, yes that was what they were talking about, but that wasn't the whole conversation. It wasn't lying telling only half the truth.  
"Yes." Cas had his eyes glued to Tessa, and Sam was about to take the information in as true, but then Sam heard Dean close the car door from outside, and wham. Wait, wasn't Cas outside when I got here--  
"Sammy." Dean came walking in through the door, Sam dropped the subject (for now) and looked to Dean.  
"What is it?"  
"Witch attack, third one. Let's go."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's also very short, sorry for that too.


	3. Beer Run.

The three had finally finished with the witches (yes; witches. There were four). God damn, they was feisty, and unbelievably uncomfortable, in Dean's opinion. Sam was exhausted, Cas wasn't as much, and Dean's mouth was bloody. Witches; the previous fight only proved they're dicks. Team Free Will entered the bunker, latching the door behind them, then dumping their bags on the table. Dean's instead action was to go straight to the mini fridge they'd left near the book shelves to get a beer. Sam sat at on of the chairs and called for Dean to get him one too. Whereas Cas just stood and contemplated the raid on the witches they'd just done.  
"God damn it!" Dean slammed the fridge door shut and walked back over to their left open bags on the table. Sam basically lifted an eyebrow at his actions.  
"What is it?" Sam asked, all Dean did was angrily mutter through his teeth.  
"First witches dint my car, then we forget to refill--"  
"Oh, right." Sam heard Dean and remembered. "We ran out of beer."  
"Damn right we ran out!" Dean reached for his keys and started to head out. "Don't wait up on me." Dean got to the door, opened it and then walked out, making the door close itself. Sam sighed and looked to Cas.  
"Do you mind going with him? I'm afraid he'll yell at the store clerk or something."   
Cas didn't need to nod or answer, instantly, Cas zapped himself straight to the passenger seat of the Impala. Surprisingly, Dean was already starting to drive, and didn't notice Castiel till he looked sideways, and jumped immediately.  
"Cas! For the last time -- stop it, will you?" Dean shook his head, regained his composure and pretended Cas didn't just freak him out (which is funny considering they go up against nearly every monster with ease).  
"My apologises, just, you were already driving." Cas kept the same questioning look out the window. Dean wasn't in the mood to let Cas bother him, but that didn't stop him asking.  
"Did Sammy make you come?"  
At first Cas figured he'd answer honestly, but felt like it would annoy Dean, so instead, he decided to answer differently.  
"No, I wanted to tag along." Cas knew Dean would be sceptical, considering it was only a beer run, so he added. "Actually, I, um, wanted to get your permission to, ah, look at your sketches again." There was silence for a moment.  
"My sketches?" Dean bit his tongue, then noticed there was an awkward pause, so he grunted. "Ah, why," he coughed to clear his throat. "Why do you want to look at them?" Then Dean realised to protect the one he had drawn earlier. "You've seen all of them." (Which wasn't true).  
Cas, slightly oblivious to Dean's awkward question, and his lie, knew he had to run along with his own lie, so he quickly formed an answer.   
"I, ah, really liked them." Which was true, Cas loved those Sketches, but he needed more of a reason, his answer was suspicious. "And I was curious as to why you didn't want Sam to know of them." Cas looked to Dean, this was a question Cas had on his mind, and thought now might be a good time to ask. Dean kept his eyes on the road and didn't answer instantly. Instead, he avoided the question completely.  
"How do you think Tessa's going?" (They'd left the cat with the motel customer-service guy. They couldn't take Tessa with them, and the guy looked lonely.) (It was Castiel's idea) (With a little help from Sam). Cas squinted at Dean, realising this was him ignoring the question.  
"That's not what I asked Dean."  
"Look, Cas, I don't want to talk about it. Witches hurt my baby, and we're out of beer. I'm not in the mood." It didn't sound like Dean was angry, but tired. If Dean were angry, Cas would've shut up, but Dean sounded like he was just making excuses.  
"Do you think Sam will not like them?"  
"What? No.""I think he'd appreciate them--"   
"No. That's not it." There was a pause. Cas was quiet, because Dean looked like he was about to say more. He closed, then opened his mouth twice, contemplating. Normally Dean would say that it wasn't any of his business, so shut up. But he felt that was currently an invalid excuse for this situation. Hiding his sketches is sort of unnecessary, and childish, but he didn't expect Cas to get why he was ashamed of drawing him so many times over. And if Sam knew, he'd tease him about it. (Now Dean can take teasing, but when he can stop it from happening, he will.) Not to mention Sam would get ideas. While Dean took his time thinking this, Cas thought he wasn't going to reply, and conjured another, more personal, question.  
"Also, Dean, I was thinking this from when I looked at them last." Dean stopped thinking instantly and glance at Cas. His stomach dropped and heart rate increased, he knew what Cas was going to ask, damn it. Quickly, before he says it, come up with a lie, hurry up! But even though Dean's head was racing with reasons before, he couldn't process anything. His head became completely blank. "Why were there--"  
Dean turned into the convenience store, slammed the breaks down, and parked at the closest stop he could. Shut Cas up by opening the door and got out of his car.   
"Wait here, I'll be quick."   
Dean cut him off before Cas could say anything more. Pretending Cas hadn't said a thing, Dean slammed his car door shut, (gently, he didn't want to hurt his baby even more) and headed straight towards the shop, hoping to buy every beer they had to get his mind off what just happened.  
Cas, on the other hand, sighed and closed his mouth. Guessing he should've seen that coming, but there should be nothing wrong with him wanting to know why Dean had drawn him so many times over. Then again, Dean wasn't an apparent 'chick flick' guy, and these moments were what Dean didn't like addressing. So Cas sighed again, and waited for Dean to come back, figuring it was a lost cause right now to continue asking.  
The drive back was completely silent, and when they arrived back at the bunker, Dean gave a beer to Sam then went to put the rest in the fridge. Sam didn't receive a reply from either of them when he asked how it went, and he rolled his eyes and went back to reading after he figured it was probably a bad idea to sent Cas off with Dean alone because of whatever stupid situation they had gotten themselves into. Good job, Sam. (Sam had sarcastically mocked himself).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yet another short chapter.


	4. Sleep Deprived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yet another long awaited short chapter. I apologise.

Dean's sketches, (ha! Roll credits, ha, ahem), anyway, they're sentimental to him. In a way he can only describe as a love-hate relationship or a caring his has for them, as if his sketches reflect him, or his feelings. (Not that he'd want that to be true, considering most of them are of Castiel). But his sketches, they're like a reminder to keep fighting the good fight, a reminder of what he wants to hold onto -- Ah! Him describing his feelings for his sketches always loops back to making it sound like Dean draws Cas because he, like, likes him or something! And he does like Cas, but he doesn't ... Ugh -- this is not what he means, it's just--  
"Dean? Dean!" Sam yelled his name the second time, slapping Dean's senses back into place. All Dean heard was his name being yelled, so he stiffened and yelled back.  
"What?" Then he looked up and realised Sam, who rolled his eyes, and was leaning against the door frame, then Dean connected the dots, and guessed Sam had been calling him more than once.  
"You alright? You were spacing out again." Sam was concerned, but he didn't sound overly cautious when asking, because it was unlike this was a situation like when Dean was being power-surged with the first blade or something else along the lines, it was obvious this was centred around whatever has been going on between Dean and Cas lately. Their actions gave Sam more reason to want to know what's going on.  
Dean didn't answer immediately, instead he recognised that he'd been thinking so hard he hadn't heard Sam, and recalled what had him so preoccupied in the first place. It was Castiel's question yesterday night; Why didn't he want Sam to know about his sketches? All Dean could pettily come up with was that he could avoid getting teased, but it felt like more than that. His sketches felt like more than just pictures, they were Dean's envision of the people around him, a weakness Dean drew onto paper, easy to access.   
The pictures at the front of the book were drawn a while back, a year or two maybe, how he saw Sam as his little brother which he had to protect. Lisa; the woman he started a life with. Chloe; a being other than human Dean had a connection too, and Castiel; the angel who rescued him, and had even that little bit of humanity in him, even for an angel.   
Dean had realised now that the way he saw them like, it was a childish view of the people he cared for. As his book gained more and more sketches along the years, Dean could see how he had progressed on what he thought of people, and he could see how he, and others around him had changed. So, yes, the sketch book was one of Dean's weaknesses that Dean believes he has to protect. But how was he supposed to explain that?  
"I'm fine, Sammy," Dean swung his legs off the side of his bed, and stood up, walked over to the door and past Sam. "Got another Case or what? Why'd you come get me?" Dean asked as he walked away, knowing Sam would just roll his eyes and follow. (And he did).  
"Well, so far there's nothing, no case,"  
"Okay, so what did you need me for?" Dean started to head towards the kitchen, Sam followed (because he wasn't paying attention to their direction).   
"Nothing, just you've been in your room all morning, I came to see if you slept in." Sam answered, and it was true, in fact Sam was hoping Dean was sleeping in, he needed rest. Dean had spent the past three days on eight hours sleep, and it was becoming worrying.  
Dean scoffed, to himself. He hadn't slept in, he was up late, and woke up early, but he had his mind on things, more stirring things than just his sketches at this point. Not that Sammy needed to know any of this.   
"Yeah, slept in." Dean said it, not that he tried to make it sound believable or anything. Sam rolled his eyes, Dean walked into the kitchen and reached the fridge, bringing out a beer.  
"Isn't to early for that?"   
"Never to early." Dean clicked off the lid and took in a gulp, then headed out the door again. And again, Sam sighed and followed.   
"Dude, you're killing your body like that." Sam tried making conversation, he felt like he had to keep Dean talking.   
"Says the one who drinks vegetable juice." Dean sipped his beer again and pulled out one of the chairs at the table, his laptop already in front of him on the table from last night.   
"It tastes good and it's good for you. What do you not get about that?" Sam went to the opposite side of the table and sat down. Dean opened his laptop and starting typing anyway, screeching for a case, whatever it might be, that Sam may have over looked. "I mean, all beer does to you is kill off your brain cells." Dean looked up and Sam slowly, instantly sending the line; 'if looks could kill' through Sam's head.  
"Well, good thing I don't care about that junk." Dean physically pulled a smile on with little effort then dropped it within a second, ending the conversation and went straight back to looking at his laptop. Sam got the message and leaned back in his chair dejected. There was silence between the two, and after a moment, Sam started to look through one of the many books already laid out on the table. Figuring getting Dean to say anything necessary was pointless, and he would use his time getting other things done.   
More time past over them as Dean was desperately searching for a case, but after a bit he got distracted again. His eyes drifted from his screen and to the table, completely absentminded that he had stopped typing and had suddenly focused on the flat surface of the table, and his thoughts roamed elsewhere entirely. Sam picked up on this after a moment and looked at how Dean was staring off into space again, and was thinking of intervening. Until Dean shook his head, rid his thoughts, and looked to his empty beer with a question in his head. Dean stood up, Sam noticed and looked up to him, Dean grabbed his empty beer bottle, with the intent to dispose of it. But then he asked Sam.  
"Where's Cas? He's usually up by now." Dean was looking towards the hall as he asked this. Sam followed his gaze then looked back to Dean when he answered.  
"Out. He left this morning saying he needed to get something." Sam expected Dean to shrug and leave the subject after he answered, but Dean was there for a moment, and Sam waited for him to say something. But Dean ignored Sam's look and realised he was acting abnormally, so he turned and was headed towards the kitchen to get another beer. "Another one?" Sam called after him.   
"Never to early." Dean called back then left into the hall. Sam watched him leave, then sighed. He was finding this harder to ignore, what the hell was up with those two?


End file.
